


Oneshot Collection

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, but still sfw, failed bondage, more or less, oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-28
Updated: 2015-11-07
Packaged: 2018-02-06 13:18:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1859457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of oneshots from tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. KageHina

The idea being Tobio’s seemed to have no bearing on his anger, and, trying to muffle his laughter, Shōyō tugged on the knot which bound his hands to the bed post whilst mourning the possibility that after this, Tobio may have an aversion to any experimental sexual exploits. Rather a disappointment; he had just gotten comfortable enough to discuss these things with Shōyō.

"Stop _laughing_ , Shōyō,” Tobio said. “This is all your fault.” He struggled against his bonds and winced as he felt new bruises forming. Shōyō ran his fingers along his wrist, his lips pressing together when he saw the reddened skin[](http://akashispanties.co.vu/post/89957199743/kagehina#) until Tobio elbowed him in the chest.

"It was your idea!" Shōyō exclaimed, his nose wrinkling the way it did when he was hurt and angry.

"I thought you could tie a knot that you could actually undo!"

Wow, he really was furious. Sparks flew from his eyes and Shōyō almost fell off the bed backwards when he scrambled away from the murderous expression, considering an escape route.

"Don’t you dare, Shōyō. Undo the knot _now_.”

"I’m trying." He tugged at the knot again, giving an exclamation of pain when one of his nails bent backwards. Tobio continued glaring as he sucked his finger and struggled again. “You’ll only make it tighter if you keep on pulling like that.”

"We are _never_ doing that again.”

"Really?" Shōyō said around his finger as he studied the knot from all angles. "You talked me into it in the first place, Tobio."

“Well it was one of fantasies, but I didn’t—” He broke off and his cheeks darkened. “I didn’t think it would end up like _this_. I trusted your ability to tie a simple[](http://akashispanties.co.vu/post/89957199743/kagehina#) knot.”

He really did look morose at that (though still trying to hold the illusion that he was merely angry), resembling a child who had just found out Santa didn’t exist.

(An incongruous image with the fact that he was currently tied up and naked, but Shōyō tried to ignore that fact. He was pretty sure that the last thing Tobio wanted was a second round[](http://akashispanties.co.vu/post/89957199743/kagehina#) when he was still like this.)

When the façade dropped away completely and he simply looked as if all his dreams had been crushed, Shōyō definitely felt guilty that he hadn’t taken more time and more care beforehand and hadn’t stopped his hands shaking as he had hurriedly tied the rope. His lower lip trembled and he sniffed before leaning his forehead on Tobio’s shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut to try to stop the tears. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice quivering. “I’m so sorry, Tobio.” He tightened his arms around Tobio’s chest, a few tears leaking out when he realised Tobio couldn’t do the same and it was entirely his fault.

“D-dumbass,” Tobio stuttered, blushing again when Shōyō looked up at him with tears in his eyes. “It’s not your fault,” he admitted. “I kinda… uh… sprung it on you. I should have given you more time to prepare.” His voice was gruff and Shōyō tightened his arms again, pressing a kiss to his collarbone.

“Worst comes to worst I’ll just keep you here as my sex slave,” Shōyō joked, his eyes creasing at the corners as he smiled widely. With his cheek against his chest, he felt Tobio’s heart rate pick[](http://akashispanties.co.vu/post/89957199743/kagehina#) up and his breathing hitch and slowly pulled away to look at him narrowly. “Really? Don’t tell me that’s another one of your _fantasies_ ,” he said, crossing his arms. Tobio darted a sheepish look at him before resolutely looking out of the open window. “Are you a masochist?” he asked curiously, scrambling backwards on his knees[](http://akashispanties.co.vu/post/89957199743/kagehina#) when Tobio gave him another murderous look. “It was just a question. I really think I should know these things.”

“Whatever. Are you going to get me free or not?”

Shōyō, a determined look Tobio recognised from games on his face, nodded and muttered _‘Fight!’_ under his breath before working anew at the knot. “I have an idea,” he said when it still wasn’t any looser a minute later. “Wait here a minute,” he said, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders (as Tobio sarcastically said, “Oh, of course I can move.”) and going to the kitchen to take a knife from the utensil drawer. Tobio’s face was a sight to be seen when he came back, the blood draining from it and an expression filled with horror. “Relax; I’m not going to use it on _you_. Keep your hands still.” He sawed at the knot, crying out in triumph when Tobio could tug his hands away and slip the rope off his wrists. Chucking the knife somewhere behind him, he bounded into Tobio’s arms, kissing his lips lightly before saying, “Want to try that again?”

At which he was dumped to the floor, Tobio’s expression indignant and still slightly horrified.


	2. KageHina

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by hikashi on tumblr,

Maybe it was the electricity in the air from the storm, maybe it was Shōyō trying to make up for the fact that it was so dark, _maybe_ it was just to bloody _annoy_ Tobio as much as possibly could, but whatever the explanation, Shōyō was being even more (if such a thing was even _possible_ ) bubbly and energetic. He was bouncing around happily, making loud exclamations at every clap of thunder as Tobio shivered, feeling more and more like he’d been put in a washing machine[](http://akashispanties.co.vu/post/89888749943/im-abusing-you-i-know-please-kagehina#) at the highest setting.

“It’s your fault, really,” Shōyō said, finally standing still.

“I don’t control whether there’s a storm or not,” Tobio said, feeling quite disgruntled. What he’d _really_ want was for his boyfriend to stop bouncing about like an excited puppy and maybe comfort him a bit. After all, when he really wanted to, he was a decent caregiver.

“No, but I saw what you were doing. You kept the umbrella on my side so I wouldn’t get wet.”

So he had noticed. Tobio looked away from Shōyō’s accusatory eyes and sneezed, shivering again and very much regretting having not left Shōyō in the rain. It was _his_ fault he’d forgotten his umbrella, after all. And he was certain that had it been Shōyō feeling so awful he would have been a lot more sympathetic.

The lightning lit up the room again and Shōyō bounded back to the window. “You should come watch it[](http://akashispanties.co.vu/post/89888749943/im-abusing-you-i-know-please-kagehina#), Tobio! Why does lightning happen?”

“I don’t know. The sun or something. A particularly concentrated ray of… of sunlight.” He sneezed again and closed his eyes.

“Wow…” Shōyō said. “What about thunder?”

“Just ask a scientist,” Tobio grumbled. Every minute that passed he was starting to feel worse. What if… what if he died? Would Karasuno be able to make it without him? He jumped when a small, cold hand[](http://akashispanties.co.vu/post/89888749943/im-abusing-you-i-know-please-kagehina#) pressed against his forehead.

“You’re really burning up, Tobio.”

“But I feel really cold,” he said.

“You need to take off your clothes[](http://akashispanties.co.vu/post/89888749943/im-abusing-you-i-know-please-kagehina#).”

Tobio, not entirely sure whether what he’d just said was due to some hallucination, stared at him as Shōyō looked back at him expectantly. Certainly… he didn’t want to do that _now_? “What?”

“Your clothes. They’re wet and…” His eyes widened as he blushed a dark crimson. “Not that! I… I meant wet clothes will only make it worse. Here…” he settled next to Tobio and took off his own jacket before tugging Tobio’s off his shoulders and undoing the buttons of his shirt, wrapping his own warmer and drier jacket around him.

“But you’ll get cold.”

Shōyō shook his head. “I’m toasty warm.”

“You’re shivering, dumbass.”

He shook his head again, his eyes narrowing determinedly, but the effect was rather lost[](http://akashispanties.co.vu/post/89888749943/im-abusing-you-i-know-please-kagehina#) when his teeth were chattering.

“Dumbass,” Tobio repeated, pulling him closer and hugging him. His body was warm anyway, and the way he squirmed before settling in more comfortably was cute.

“I think you’re delirious.”

“Huh?”

“Delirious. You just called me cute.”

Tobio, feeling himself sinking into some sort of half-doze, mumbled, “But you _are_ cute.”

“I don’t _want_ to be cute.”

He carried on mumbling under his breath, a pleasant, comforting backdrop to the rumbles of thunder and the rain striking the roof, only moving once Tobio’s jacket dried to replace his own. Tobio, his head on Shōyō’s lap, closed his eyes to wait out the headache and the storm outside.


	3. KuroKen

The trick with such things was always the same. Even if he had missed Kuroo enough to feel as if his heart was escaping him every time he took a breath, even if the night before he had spent hours looking through photos of them together on his phone, Kenma had to act as if he hadn’t missed him at all. So when an incoming call on Skype popped up on the screen of his laptop (which was open on his lap , the internet connection having been checked a minimum of four times and sound checked just as many), Kenma forced himself to wait fifteen seconds before ruffling his hair pointlessly, pinching his cheeks and answering.

“Sorry!” he said with a forced cheerful smile, though at the sight of him his stomach tensed. “I almost forgot again.” The console which had been in his hand was placed onto the bed next to him.

Kuroo raised an eyebrow, smirking with his head to one side. “I’m sure you did,” he answered, with the air that he was onto him. Kenma hid his face by picking up a jumper and pulling it on over his head.

“And anyway,” he said in an effort to distract from the fact that he was most likely blushing. He checked in the little screen that held his face and almost grimaced. “Isn’t that a new piercing? Your mother’s going to give you an ultimatum.”

“She already did,” he answered, touching the new piercing on his eyebrow. “And refused to talk to me when I said I wanted a tattoo.”

Although he heated up at that—since when had he found the punk, delinquent look so  _attractive_? _—_ he still shrugged carelessly. “It’s not like it’s that great of an idea.” He crossed his arms as Kuroo gave him an amused look.

“I see the way you look at me when I talk about getting a tattoo, Kenma.” Kenma pressed his lips together and tried to meet Kuroo’s eyes, but he couldn’t quite. “It’s fine. You’re allowed to find your boyfriend attractive.” But from the smirk, Kenma doubted he would be able to live it down. “And you’re allowed to miss him too.”

Kenma winced, brought his knees up to rest his chin on them. “Which boyfriend?” he asked as lightly as he could. His voice only cracked once, which he considered a feat of strength what with how his heart was pounding and it was even getting a little difficult to breathe. He didn’t usually feel this suffocated unless he had to talk in front of the class.

“Smart-ass,” Kuroo said, blowing a kiss to the camera and sitting back when Kenma smiled. “How are preparations for uni coming, then?”

“Good. I should be able to get in with you.”

“And then we’ll live together?”

Kenma furrowed his brow. “Really?”

“It’s what we said when we were kids, right?”

Kenma remembered that clearly, a whispered promise under the covers, a hand reaching out to take his and Kuroo’s encouraging smile through the darkness. He’d fallen asleep in Kuroo’s arms that night, after having told him of the particular group of boys in his class that delighted in doing small things to make his life more difficult, hiding his belongings, sneaking up behind him just to grab onto his shoulders because it made him yelp and, in one particularly embarrassing situation, cry. But they had been  _children_  then. It meant something different now to be living with Kuroo than what they had imagined years ago.

“Well, yes, but—”

“The only problem is I can’t afford to put in another bed and there’s only one bedroom to the apartment.” He shrugged, though he was still smirking, his eyes brighter than usual. “So we’ll have to sleep together. Every night.”

Kenma blushed at the double entendre, but still smiled. “I’m fine with that,” he said, suddenly enjoying the power when it was Kuroo who blushed at his words.


	4. KuroKen

Kenma woke with a start yet again, the plague of the nightmare making him jump for the fifth time that night. It had been a recurring nightmare for several years now, started when he'd watched a horror film with Kuroo, but he hadn't had it in months.

He knew it had been a bad idea to trade horror stories, but even so he hadn't expected Yamomoto to tell a horrific one about an axe-weilding clown. And, being able to hide his fear pretty well, even Kuroo hadn't known that he was terrified of clowns so he hadn't known to stop him.

He still felt like he was being chased by the clown. If he looked outside, its macabre grin and white eyes, blood running down his chin instead of paint, would be on the other side of the pane.

He turned to lay on his back, unwilling to close his eyes. Although he wasn't alone—the rest of the team made a lot of noise when they slept—he couldn't help but imagine the clown would only need a few swings of the axe and they would be silent and he would be covered in blood as it dragged its body closer to finish the job on him and Kuroo.

“Still awake?”

Kuroo's voice was quiet in the darkness. Kenma didn't look at him and curled up under his blankets. “Yeah.”

“For how long?”

“I can't sleep.”

When he turned over, ruminating on whether he should keep an eye out on the view from the window or just close his eyes and try to get over a fear which he _knew_ was irrational, Kuroo just called out his name again in a whisper. He should have known, really; this was the boy who insisted on being his friend so much that it didn't bother him when Kenma didn't say more than a sentence to him for more than a month, and then proceeded to cajole, blackmail and any other forms of 'persuasion' until he agreed to join the volleyball club.

Still, when Kuroo prodded him he jumped, a vision of the clown looming over him and clapped his hands to his mouth as he whimpered.

“What's wrong?”

“Nightmares,” he answered. No point in denying it or pretending nothing was wrong; Kuroo would never let it go until he told the truth.

“Do you remember what you used to do when you got nightmares?”

He looked over his shoulder and was grateful that it was dark enough that the fact that he was blushing wasn't apparent. “No.”

“Liar.” He grinned and lifted one side of his blanket. “It was the stories, wasn't it?”

He turned away, crossing his arms until Kuroo started prodding at him again. “Kenma.”

“Shut up.”

“Are you still scared?”

“Shut up, Kuroo.”

He tried to close his eyes, but the grinning face popped up in his mind again. His heart beating loud enough that he was sure Kuroo would hear it, he turned to him. “Maybe a little scared.”

He lifted the blanket again and caught Kenma's arm. After glaring, he relented and went into his bed, burrowing into his arms the same way he would have as a child.

“It's fine. I'll protect you,” he said mockingly, stroking his hair a couple of times.

“Wake me up early tomorrow,” Kenma answered as a warning.


	5. KageHina

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by ohohomos on tumblr.

Four times Tobio hated being called a king, and one time he didn’t mind.

1 – Tobio hadn’t realised that losing made everything dark.

It wasn’t dark, not really. The sun was still up and the sky was bright. He’d opened the windows, almost torn the curtains in his haste to fill the room with light, shut his door as if to keep it trapped in his room, but everything felt dark. The walls were sucking the light into themselves, the sun seemed to be turning its back on him. His team mates, former team mates, were still in his mind. He was an egocentric king, his crown heavy on his head, the cape constricting his chest until he couldn’t breathe, tightening around his throat until cries for help couldn’t be heard, his throne lifting him high up, enough that he couldn’t see the ground. The wind was whipping around him, trying to push him off, composed of the crowd whispering ‘ _What a monster_ ’. So high up; if he fell he would have nothing. It would only take one small push.

The world was fire underneath him. He held onto his throne as it cracked and his crown as it rusted, watching the sky through blurred eyes as it darkened.

-

2 – It hurt more than he thought it would when Hinata muttered under his breath about what a monster he was. It felt strange that his expression was so dark, almost murderous, when so many times already he’d seen him happy. Such an expression didn’t belong on Hinata.

“You really are an egocentric king,” he said.

The throne he still held onto cracked again, audible to his ears, and the hissed ‘ _Bastard_ ' that came out of his mouth really did make him seem like a monster. He grabbed the front of Hinata's top, ready to hit him until he ran away. Hinata paled with fear, his eyes widened at Tobio's expression.

“H-hey, Kageyama…”

“I said not to call me that.”

He struggled, and Tobio let him go. Smoothing down the front of his top, he bounced on his toes. “One more time!” he said, recovering remarkably quickly even as Tobio was still glaring at him. The ball was passed back to him as Hinata dropped his hips, his brow furrowing in concentration. Tobio thought about how his posture had improved—those break-time sessions with Sugawara were paying off—before throwing the ball up and serving it to Hinata’s left.

-

3 – “Isn’t the king scary?” Tsukishima drawled, lazily tossing a volleyball from one hand to the other. “It makes us commoners worry that we will lose our heads if we don’t bow down to his every wish.”

Tobio was vaguely aware of Hinata behind him and Tanaka starting towards them, warning Tsukishima in a loud voice. When he caught Tsukishima’s collar, he wanted nothing more than to punch him until he was bloody and unconscious. Yamaguchi was trying to tug his hand away, Tanaka was shouting that Daichi was going to get angry, and Hinata was still bouncing behind him, telling him to be careful.

“What a monster the king of the upper court is.”

His other hand was in a fist. He was going to do it, strike him until he fell to the ground, begging for mercy, until Daichi grabbed his shoulder. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Slowly letting go of Tsukishima, Tobio lowered his head and apologised in a rough voice as Hinata, squeaking with his fear, said that it was Tsukishima’s fault and Yamaguchi insisted that it was the other way around.

“I don’t care whose fault it is. But threaten each other once more and you’re both out of the club.”

Hinata stopped bouncing and cowered behind Tobio as Yamaguchi asked Tsukishima if he was unhurt.

“Don’t call me that,” Tobio said, probably uselessly, once Daichi had left. Tsukishima didn’t answer, his eyes unreadable even though he was smirking.

-

4 – It was always a bit awkward, no matter how many times Tobio insisted otherwise, to see the players of Aobajousai. Hinata was going through his usual routine of shouting out with wonder over every little thing as Tobio followed him, not paying attention enough to his surroundings that when he shouted, “The Grand King!” and ran backwards, colliding with Tobio before hiding behind him, Tobio hadn’t realised that the team was in front of them.

Oikawa, rather amused at Hinata’s reaction as he peered around Tobio’s body, holding onto his arm, smiled and held up his hand in greeting. “How are you, Tobio-chan?”

Tobio nodded once, automatically moving so his body shielded a bit more of Hinata (and hopefully discouraged him from jumping out and starting to threaten ‘turniphead-kun’, who was glaring at them distastefully).

As Oikawa led his team away, Kindaichi said over his shoulder, “Ready to be beaten, king of the upper court?” Oikawa turned, whether to reprimand him or join in, Tobio didn’t know, because Hinata jumped from out behind him with all the intensity and anger of a pitbull.

“Don’t call him that! And of course we won’t be beaten!”

Tobio was about to pull him back and tell him to stop being such an idiot, but as he was about to he realised that Hinata had stepped into the only beam of sunlight coming through the only window set in the wall. It was reflecting from his hair like fire, highlighting almost-invisible freckles over his nose. Tobio felt like he was almost blinded by his eyes, intense and protective.

He heard Oikawa laugh before saying something about what an interesting person he was and drag Kindaichi by his arm before a real shouting match could start, and Hinata crossed his arms before turning back to Tobio, still unable to look away.

“What?”

“Dumbass.”

Hinata, still riled up enough that he would have picked a fight with the wall if it was the only thing present, went up on his tiptoes. “You’re the dumbass! I was helping you!”

Tobio turned away, ignoring Hinata as he followed him and carried on yapping determinedly and trying to get a reaction out of him.

-

-

-

1 – The loss was just as difficult as it had been the year before. As Shiratorizawa were looking up at the ceiling in relief, Karasuno lowered their heads. The ‘ _Thank you for the game!_ ' rang out and echoed over and over in Tobio's head and the world was darkening again. He'd thrown tosses that he shouldn't have, after all. Hinata's image was still burned into his mind, he still thought that it was him that was running from one side of the court to the other, jumping impossibly high and telling him to toss the ball to him; that he would be there to spike it.

Instead of waiting for his team to abandon him, anger disfiguring them and a gaping chasm opening up between them, he found Daichi and bowed down. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

He looked up in surprise, though he was still bowing. “I-it’s my fault that we lost.”

Sugawara, next to Daichi, exchanged a look with him. “It isn’t. You’re so used to playing with Hinata that it was difficult to adjust.” Sugawara smiled as Daichi talked. “And we’re second in Japan. This really is Karasuno’s revival.”

When he looked at his team, who had gathered in the time that they were talking, Sugawara said, “Why don’t you go see Hinata, Kageyama?”

The sense of ease which was starting to build up now that he knew his team wouldn’t abandon him disappeared. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I promised we’d win.” He didn’t want to think about how angry Hinata would be if he went to see him and hadn’t won. He’d be forced to tell him about the desperate tosses he’d done, that only  _he_  would have been able to spike.

“If you don’t go of your own accord I’m going to drag you,” Nishinoya said, Tanaka closing his eyes and nodding wisely beside him.

“Even I would do it if it meant you would stop sulking like an abandoned lovesick puppy,” Tsukishima said distastefully as Tobio glared, blushing furiously.

“He won’t be angry.”

He hadn’t  _meant_  for the others to find out about his feelings for Hinata, and wasn’t entirely sure how it got out, but was strangely reassured by their words as he ran the three miles that separated the gymnasium from Hinata’s house. Although he was gasping for breath when he arrived, he only waited a couple of seconds before he knocked on the door. Hinata’s mother seemed shocked at his appearance but smiled before letting him in, telling him that Hinata was in his room. Slowing down as he approached the door, he smoothed down his hair and straightened his top before tapping it with his nail.

“Natsu, I’ve told you to leave me alone.”

“It’s me.”

“Kageyama? Ah, wait a second…” He waited until Hinata told him he could enter, and stood in the doorway, suddenly uncertain as to whether the others had been right about Hinata not being angry. “The game?” he said. His cheeks were slightly red and he straightened, the cast on his leg making it awkward. “Could you open the window, please?”

He waited until he’d done as Hinata asked and taken the chair from next to the desk to sit next to him before admitting that they lost.

Hinata blinked a few times, his hand going to his cast shakily. “We… we lost?”

“We would have won if you’d been there,” he continued angrily. Hinata’s shoulders hunched forwards and his lower lip stuck out slightly. He was staring at the cast on his leg with wide eyes, and Tobio hated that he wouldn’t look at him, hated the car that had been going too fast round the corner and hit Hinata’s bike, hated that he’d had to go through the loss without Hinata by his side, still smiling and insisting that they would win the next game, and the next, and the next.

But the sun was illuminating Hinata’s bed and Tobio felt anger dissipating. “It was my fault. I kept on hitting tosses that only you could spike.”

Hinata looked at him, and Tobio waited for him to start throwing pillows or shouting. “We can always win the next game,” he said, smiling brighter than the sun which still illuminated his form. “I’ll be back on my feet then,” he continued stubbornly.

“Why aren’t you angry?”

“Angry?”

“Why aren’t you saying that I’m a monster? An egotistic king?”

His hand reached up to protectively cover the top of his head. “But you’re not a monster. And you’re not egotistic. You’ve changed since then.” He frowned at Tobio before lowering his hand. “Although… this might make you angry, but you are my king. In a way.”

He gave an embarrassed laugh and pulled his covers up so they half-covered his face, but didn’t do much to cover his blush. “I just… it’s…” His voice was muffled by the blanket. “You’re important to me. Really important.” He lifted the covers even higher, so that only a few strands of orange hair could be seen.

“Hinata.”

“You can leave now.”

“Hinata.”

Understanding that he wouldn’t leave, he lowered his arms when Tobio took his hands, watched with wide eyes as he came closer and kissed him.

It was awkward; the angle wasn’t quite right, their teeth clicked together and Tobio’s knee was digging into the wood of the bed as he braced himself with one hand so he wouldn’t fall onto Hinata. But at the same time it was absolutely perfect. Hinata turned away when Tobio sat down again and Tobio did the same.

“Do you really think we’ll win next year?” he finally said once Hinata had started throwing cautious little glances to him. Hinata nodded before sniffing and wiping under his eyes. “Why are you crying, dumbass?”

“I’m not crying,” he said, wiping his eyes with his blanket.

“You obviously are.”

“I’m not!”

Tobio shook his head at Hinata’s stubbornness, and stayed still in comfortable silence as the sun beam moved to bathe him.


	6. KuroKen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From a stupid headcanon I have that Kenma's favourite apple pie is Kuroo's mother's recipe. Genderfluid!Kenma

**Four times Kuroo couldn't make the apple pie and one time he finally could**

1 – Fights between children were always a common occurrence, especially between two as different as Kenma and Kuroo. Forgiveness, to them, took a long time. An entire summer's afternoon sat at opposite ends of the garden refusing to talk, a morning stuck inside due to rain, Kuroo increasingly more agitated and Kenma silent and almost motionless in the corner. The next morning, though, all was forgotten.

However, when one rule was broken and Kuroo, angry and bored, wrenched a console out of Kenma's hand and it clattered to the floor, the screen going black, Kenma demanded that Kuroo leave.

It was the next day, when Kenma still hadn't found it worth his while to forgive Kuroo, that he opened the door to him with his hand raised, poised to knock and the other hand behind his back.

“I wanted to say sorry.”

It didn't discourage him when Kenma didn't reply.

“And that I'll never do anything of the sort again.” He shook his head vigorously, until Kenma had a small smile on his face from how ridiculous he looked.

“What do you have behind your back?”

It was a bit awkward to bring the plate round without dropping what was atop it, but seeing Kenma's reaction—like a cat who had just caught sight of its favourite toy—was worth it. “I made you some apple pie. From my mother's recipe.”

Kenma's hands reached out before he had even finished speaking, and Kuroo let him take the plate from his hands and followed him into the kitchen.

It tasted awful, but Kenma insisted that it was the thought that counted.

-

2 – Kenma felt remarkably warm when he woke up the first day of his very first training camp, and when he noticed that Kuroo had somehow, during the night, worked his way over to his bed and even stolen his pillow he felt rather disdainful about it all. Kuroo didn't have much of a sense of personal space, after all, and it took a lot of getting used to when he continued to be like that in public.

Right now, his main concern was to get Kuroo out of his bed before the others woke up, and when prodding his shoulder didn't work, he got on his knees beside Kuroo and dropped his phone on top of his head. It slid off when he bolted upright, asking in a shout where the fire was, and settled back with a confused expression as the others jolted awake.

Rubbing the back of his head with a wince, he frowned at Kenma. “What did you just do?”

“You were stealing my pillow. I dropped my phone on your head to wake you up.”

He continued rubbing the back of his head, looking distinctly confused until he saw that his covers were currently on Kenma's bed and Kenma's were on the far side, at which he smiled. “Come on, you never minded us sharing a bed before.”

There were obvious titters; Kenma knew it was part of the reaction he expected from his smile. Everyone's eyes were on them, and Kenma felt an overwhelming urge to hide and hold his breath until the world disappeared from around him. His fists clenched in his covers and cold sweat on his brow, he stammered out a protest and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as if someone was watching and laughing at him from behind. When he checked, no one was there, but the sensation remained as he stayed still on his bed, asking Kuroo in a small voice to get off his bed.

Someone—he wasn't sure who—told him to lighten up (it wasn't Kuroo; Kuroo was currently looking at him with a mixture of chagrin and surprise as he bit his lip until it was bleeding and shivered even though it wasn't cold). Kuroo ignored what he'd asked and caught hold of his shoulder. “Hey, Kenma—”

He cried out with surprise when Kenma shoved him backwards and leapt to his feet to run outside into the hallway,down the hallway, trying to remember which turns led outside. He'd forgotten his phone, which was bad because there was no way he could go back and get it now and he had nothing to distract himself from his ragged breathing and the tingle up his spine as if people were still watching him, judging him. He sometimes wished he could be more like Kuroo, comfortable enough within his own skin to make such jokes and not worry how others would react.

It was over half an hour before he quietly went back into the room, just as the last of the team left and hunted around for his phone, realised that Kuroo must have taken it with him, and dragged his bedding into a far corner further away from the rest of them.

That evening, after avoiding Kuroo as much as possible, he was late back to the room. Kenma put his covers over his head and to pass time played one of the newest apps on his phone (which Kuroo had handed back gingerly as if Kenma would scratch or bite him).

The covers were pulled off him after a while and Kenma turned to see Kuroo, balancing a plate with a few slices of apple pie on one hand and a hopeful expression on his face.

“To say sorry,” he said, letting Kenma take the plate from him and handing him a fork. Kenma dove onto the pie before pulling a face. “It's still not good?” Kuroo said, taking the fork from him and trying a bit himself.

Worse than usual, actually, but as always it was the thought that counted.

-

3 – When Kenma finally explained to Kuroo what it was that made him so uncomfortable sometimes, as if at some points he was in the wrong skin, the reaction hadn't been what he'd hoped. The argument still rolling around in his mind, spilling out into his room and hiding in shadows, he pulled blanket after blanket out of his cupboard and hid himself under them. If Kuroo never came back; so disgusted at him that he would completely forget everything that had brought them together, the last remnants of him would be the argument. It would be incessant and constant, always in his mind.

“ _I don't know what the problem is, Kenma... it's just gender... stop making it such a big issue... you're over-reacting... you're a boy; that's all there is to it...”_

He let the phone drop from his hand, the dim light from the screen illuminating the folds of the blanket around him.

“It's important to me,” he said quietly. “I don't always feel comfortable.” The Kuroo in his mind was listening, but still shook his head. “It's not all the time. It's almost like my mind is split and some days one is more vocal than the others.” He wondered that if he'd been able to clearly explain it before Kuroo had ignored his arguments it would have gone better. It was his insecurity. Everything was due to that. “I feel sometimes like I'm being pulled in different directions and I don't know how to stop it from tearing me apart.” He worked his way out of the blankets and flattened his dark hair before looking up, realising that he wasn't alone, and Kuroo was standing in the doorway.

“Kenma—” He broke off when Kenma pulled the blankets over his head again. Kuroo had heard all of that... wait, was he back to try to convince Kenma that how he felt was wrong? No, that couldn't be it; it was too cruel. “I have apple pie.”

Kenma peeked out. “Your mother's recipe?”

“Yes. I followed the instructions exactly.”

Kuroo handed him the plate when he reached out for it and sat next to him. “It's still bad,” Kenma said when he tasted a piece and gave it back as Kuroo groaned and fell onto his side.

“Every time...”

Both quiet, it was more awkward between them than it had been for years, until Kenma asked him to leave.

“No. I... I'm really sorry, Kenma. I knew as soon as I left that how I spoke was wrong and I regret it. I was a bad friend.” Kenma didn't want to look at him, certain that he was lying. “Please don't shut me out. I'll make it up to you.”

“It was really difficult to tell you.”

“I know.”

“And you were the first person I told.”

“I'm sorry.” There was a pause, before Kuroo insistently pulled the covers off. “You'll never have any reason to mistrust me again.”

Kenma blinked, looked at the abandoned pie on the plate next to them and got to his knees as he nodded. “I want to start a new leaf. Maybe if I really accept myself as I am I'll be more content.” He caught sight of himself in the mirror in front of him and lifted up a strand of hair. “Maybe I'll dye it,” he said under his breath.

-

4 – Kenma could pinpoint the exact moment he fell in love with Kuroo on his eighteenth birthday. It hadn't been a slow, gentle descent. It hadn't been building up on him gradually until finally, in a searing strike of passion the realisation dawned. It had just been that one moment he didn't love Kuroo, and the next moment he did.

Kuroo coming back home from university to surprise him on his birthday would have been a good surprise, had he not fallen asleep on the sofa, leaning on Kenma and making it impossible for him to move, only an hour after he arrived with an apple pie which was really the worst of the lot. It took a few minutes of gentle manoeuvring to be able to take his DS out of his jacket pocket and distract himself with it for a while (as his mother watched them both in silent shock and amusement) until Kuroo finally woke up again and promptly flopped onto the arm of the sofa. “Did I tell you that you look really good with your hair like that?”

Kenma almost dropped his DS in shock and turned to look at Kuroo, being overtaken by all the other racers on his game in a moment. “Are you talking to me?”

“Yes, Kenma. You look kinda... hot.”

Shaking his head, Kenma placed the console next to him. He hadn't dyed his hair since the very first time and the colour was almost completely grown out, and as well as that it really needed to be cut.

“It surprised me when you opened the door, actually—” He jumped when Kenma flicked him on the forehead and frowned, looking distinctly confused. “What?” Kenma just looked at him. “What was I just saying?”

Kenma picked up the console again. “Nothing.”

From how uncomfortable he was looking, Kenma was sure that he remembered exactly what he'd said.

And the exact moment he fell for Kuroo was when he came back from a shower that evening to Kuroo talking on speaker-phone to his mother, insisting that he'd done everything she said but the apple pie just hadn't come out right. In the light from the open refrigerator, standing comfortably in his pyjamas as if there was nowhere else in the world he could be. It wasn't a despairing fall, just a part of himself that slotted neatly into place and formed another facet of who he was.

He hung up the phone after saying goodbye to his mother and took a bottle of water from the fridge. Kenma watched him drink it whilst musing how to broach the subject, or whether he ever should.

“Am I sleeping in your room?” he asked when he noticed Kenma, who nodded. “I'll go to sleep now, then. I don't sleep enough these days.” He seemed offended when Kenma laughed before putting a hand to his mouth and purposefully walked into him.

He didn't leave until the next afternoon, having to borrow an umbrella because of the pouring rain.

“At least you have a reason to come back,” Kenma said, standing in the doorway and tapping the umbrella. “That's mine. You'll have to give it back to me.”

He gave a cocky grin, the same one he'd had for years, before ducking in to kiss Kenma's cheek. He hadn't done that since they were children—so long ago, it seemed. Kenma, experimental and wondering, turned his head so Kuroo's lips brushed against his own.

Kuroo didn't pull away. It didn't feel strange, or particularly wonderful and spectacular, just very warm. Kuroo's lips were soft against his, his fingertips rough and gentle against his cheek. When Kenma pulled away, he didn't protest. He left after small smile, not cocky, not forced but entirely natural and innocent.

-

-

-

1 – That Tetsurou could be very lazy at times was a given, but when Kenma came home after an entire, soul-sucking day of university lectures, and his breakfast things were still on the table and Tetsurou was napping on the sofa he may have lost it a little. Though he still believed that the phone (Tetsurou's) that he aimed at the head (also Tetsurou's) was entirely merited.

“Ow...” he whined as he woke up, rubbing the spot on his head where the phone struck him and sticking his bottom lip out in a pout when he saw Kenma. “That hurt,” he said, propping himself up with his elbows. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

At any other moment, Kenma may have looked away, embarrassed and rather annoyed by Tetsurou's incessant adulation, but he was on a mission. “Your breakfast things are still on the table.”

“So?” Tetsurou said, falling back again with his eyes closed and lifting the front of his top. “It's really hot in here.”

“Really?” Kenma said, continuing by throwing a pillow at him. “Breakfast things. _Now_.”

“I'll do it later, Kenma.”

“Of course you will,” Kenma said disparagingly, going back into the kitchen and cleaning it up himself, ignoring how Tetsurou insisted that he would have done it and made half-hearted moves to take him away from the sink.

Having already made plans with Hinata and unwilling to stay in close proximity to Tetsurou for more than a few moments, it was dark and close to ten in the evening by the time he came back home to the smell of baking.

“I thought I'd try one last time,” Tetsurou said over his shoulder, watching him warily before taking an apple pie out of the oven. “H-how are you?”

As the kitchen was still close to spotless, Kenma stayed instead of barricading himself upstairs, taking the hair slides out of his hair as Tetsurou cut a piece off. “You try it first,” Tetsurou said, watching his creation as if it was about to explode. Kenma, feeling rather like he should get a medal for his bravery, took the fork from Tetsurou's hand and gingerly tried the corner.

He wasn't sure whether the shock that it actually had a  _nice_ flavour was worse than how he'd expected it to be, and Tetsurou watched his expression. “It's that bad?” he said disparagingly. “I don't get it.”

“No; it's really good. Almost as good as your mother's.”

Unbelieving, he tried a bit himself.

His celebration was a  _little_ too over the top, but Kenma still only looked at him, smiling and realising again and again how much he loved Tetsurou, before settling into his arms, a whispered “ _Marry me_ ,” in Tetsurou's ear.

 


	7. KuroKen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how many times has this been done.......ah well. written for vulpixmew on tumblr on a whim

Kuroo stared intently.

Generally, that was something which would bother Kenma. Someone staring had to mean something was off, that he’d made a massive mistake and they were going to start laughing at his expense any minute.

Strange that it was different with Kuroo. He could stare constantly and Kenma wouldn’t feel self-conscious in the slightest. So he capitalised on it, pulling a smirk as he put his phone down, and was about to launch some kind of witty (he hoped) comment in his direction before Kuroo’s expression froze him in place. Utter surprise, as if he’d just had an electric shock pass through his body. Colour flooding to his cheeks as if it was seven years previously when he’d accidentally walked in on Kuroo looking through questionable magazines. He spluttered (as he had done then) and crossed his arms, diligently looking at a spot over Kenma’s left shoulder.

“What?”

“You didn’t tell me.”

“About what?” Was it the hair? It might have been, he was _meaning_ to get it cut and either coloured or bleached again. He was more tanned, having spent more time outside since those screens that could handle high light exposure had become mass-market productions and staying outside a few hours a day got his mother off his back.

“Y-you…”

“What?”

“You’re _hot_.”

Kenma frowned. “I’m not too warm, no. I’m fairly cold, in fact.”

“I… I could warm you up—no. No, that’s not…” he trailed off, and bit his lip for a second. “I have something to do, do you mind if we meet up in a couple of hours round mine? No? Okay.” 


End file.
